


All the Way For You

by harlequinblueflag



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I will add tags as I go along, M/M, Nor will TimKon, Ra'sTim won't happen until way later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequinblueflag/pseuds/harlequinblueflag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Drake is just a child when he meets Ra's al Ghul. The man is a puzzle, one that Tim isn't sure he wants to solve.<br/>This is the story of Tim growing up.</p><p>NOTE: On hiatus as of 2016. I may come back and rewrite the entire thing, but it is just as likely that I'll never finish this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is my monster story. So called, because I plan to make it rather long.  
> The title comes from a Poets of the Fall song, because that is the song that I have been listening to on repeat while writing this monster.  
> I will post small tidbits of this story as I write, and you can always see status updates on my Tumblr: meganeotaku15.tumblr.com/  
> This is my first story on AO3, so I apologize for any grievances.  
> Also, a quick warning: There will eventually be Ra'sTim, but that will not happen until far in the future. Tim will be all grown up then, but I thought I might mention it ahead of time.  
> Please, enjoy!

Tim paused as he lifted the glass to his lips, wondering if it were poisoned. There was a chance it could be, but then it could just be that he was paranoid.

He had been snatched out of an alleyway, while tracking Batman and Robin, and had been carried quickly towards a building nearby. His kidnapper had set him down gently, had offered him a drink, and had pointed towards an armchair near the fireplace. Tim could take a hint. 

He had been kidnapped, yes, but his kidnappers had not been unkind to him so far. They had all but ignored him, since he had taken his seat. They could have killed him at any point, but they had not. Surely they would not poison his drink?

Then again, Tim had heard of slave owners who drugged up their victims before shipping them off to work unimaginable jobs. Tim’s father had warned him about these kinds of people when Tim had joined him overseas for a short visit. 

Tim glanced at his drink, and decided a parched throat was worth it if the liquid inside was in fact poisoned. Tim moved to set the glass on the table in front of him, and then promptly winced when he realized that there were no coasters to place it on. His mother had only needed to tell him once that a cup was to be set down on a coaster, or not set down at all. 

The table was beautiful, perhaps hand carved out of mahogany, and the last thing Tim wanted to do was stain it through carelessness. Tim realized that he was being considerate to his kidnappers, but his mother’s words were law. Tim continued to hold his drink, and tried to focus on not taking a sip.

Tim distracted himself by staring into the fire, and considered his current situation. His kidnappers were not ordinary criminals, they had been too quick and light on their feet for that to be the case. They had scaled the walls of the buildings outside, like ninjas, including the one who had been carrying Tim. That meant they were skilled at what they did, especially if Batman had not noticed them. 

Of course, Batman had not noticed Tim, but Tim had always assumed that was because he wasn’t looking for a ten-year-old. Over the past year, Tim had gotten quite skilled at hiding in little nooks and crannies, as well. 

With this thought in mind, Tim wondered what the ninjas wanted with Tim. If Batman hadn’t noticed him, how had they? Then again, perhaps they had been watching Batman as well, and had noticed him over time. That seemed reasonable. Which meant they had kidnapped him because of his tendency to follow the Bat around town. 

Did they suspect that he knew Bruce Wayne was Batman. Well, Tim would never tell them. He was certain he would never survive an interrogation, but surely they wouldn’t torture a kid? They were criminals, though… Perhaps they would. Which meant Tim would have to find a way to escape before that happened. 

Tim was startled from his thoughts when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He glanced up, shocked that he had been snuck up on so completely, and let his gaze settle on an older looking fellow. Perhaps late fifties, his mind decided. 

The man chuckled at him, and Tim wondered if the fellow could read minds. That would be very inconvenient. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep Bruce Wayne’s secret identity a secret if that were the case. Of course, the man could skip this entire farce, if that were the case. He could just march up to Batman, and work it out for himself. 

The man chuckled again as he sat down in the armchair opposite to Tim. “I can see that the cogs in your head are at work.” Tim feared the man really could read minds, before remembering that his mother had told him that she could always tell when he was thinking. He apparently scrunched up his nose when he was truly concentrating. She hadn’t seemed to mind, stating that a thinking child was better than an impulsive one.

The man continued, a look of understanding gracing his features. “The cogs are hard at work, yes, but are they meshing together correctly?”

Tim sat there for a moment, trying to work out exactly what the man meant. If he were older, he was sure he would have understood perfectly. He decided to ignore the question, and opted for one of his own. “Mister, do you have a coaster? I can’t put this down.”

The man glanced at Tim’s glass, and smiled. “You haven’t even tasted your drink. Why is that?”

“I don’t want it.” Tim paused for a second, before continuing. His mother would chastise him if he didn’t use manners. “Thank you for offering it to me, mister, but I don’t want it.”

“And why is that?” The man was smiling even wider now, and Tim felt that perhaps it was a very good idea that he had not touched the drink. 

“I don’t know you mister. It might be poisoned.”

“The drink?”

“Yes…” Tim knew it was impolite to suggest such a thing, but then it was also impolite to kidnap ten-year-old children. Surely this evened things out. 

“So mister, do you have a coaster? I can’t put this down.”

“And why is that?” 

Tim stared at the man. Why was he questioning everything that Tim did? No one questioned what he did, if he did it right. He was left alone, to his own devices, and no one ever asked him “why.”

“If I put the cup down, it’ll stain the table. Do you have a coaster?” Tim struggled with himself before adding, “Please?”

“Such manners.” The man motioned for one of the ninjas to come over, and asked for Tim’s drink to be taken away. Tim was glad that it was finally gone, and sighed with relief. 

“Now, tell me young one. What is your name?”

Tim considered the question for a minute. He could always give his full name, but what if the man followed him home- if he ever got home. What if the man was a rival of his father’s company? That would be bad. No last names, Tim decided. So then, should he give his first name, or would that be too much of a giveaway? He hoped not, but then he didn’t want to risk it. 

Still, it would be impolite to lie. His mother always told him not to lie. Always tell the truth, he reminded himself. Then again, did he have to tell the truth when he was conversing with his kidnappers? It would be impolite to lie, but they had been rather impolite themselves.

“My name is Alexander.” 

“Alexander, is it? Such a common name.” It was the first thing to pop into Tim’s head. He should have picked a less common name, but it was too late now. The name would have to do.

The man was smiling at him again, and Tim felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. He was studying every aspect of him, Tim knew this, he had seen his mother do the same to dinner guests. It was unnerving to have that look pointed in his direction, though.

It started to dawn on him that he was being tested. He didn’t know what for, but this man was analyzing him, measuring his answers, and comparing him to something or someone else. The man had to be using some form of reference to weigh Tim’s answers, and frankly, Tim didn’t want to know how, where, or when this man had obtained that reference. 

“My mother likes the name Alexander. She says it is-” what was the word she always used? Oh yes, “formal.”

“I see. Yes, it is a very formal name, though if I may? I would rather call you Alex.” It was impolite to lie, but if one needed to lie? Maybe then it was okay, as long as you didn’t get caught. 

“Alex is fine.” He nodded his head, and thought about how he preferred to be called Tim. He hoped that he sounded normal, that he wouldn’t be caught in the lie. This man was actually rather terrifying, the more that Tim got to know him. There was just… something off about him. Something that Tim didn’t want to work out. Something that he would rather ignore. 

Of course, with the man smiling at him like that, it was hard to ignore. 

“It is nice to meet you, Alex. I am Ra’s al Ghul.” The man held out his hand, and Tim considered whether or not to shake it. It could be dangerous, but then it was impolite not to return the favor. His mother had taught him better. 

He was already trapped by these men, there could be no harm in entertaining their whims. Perhaps if he did everything correctly, if he impressed this man enough, he would be let go. That would be ideal.

Tim sighed, and shook the hand offered to him. He made sure to keep his grip firm, and referred to the advice his father had given him on proper handshakes. His parents had told him that a good handshake could tell you all you needed to know about a person. Sadly, Tim had yet to learn how to read a handshake. All he could tell was that Ra’s had not taken his hand gently, as if he were a newborn babe. That was good, right? The man was taking him seriously?

Ra’s, on the other hand, appeared to know how to read a handshake, as his creepy smile was back with full force. Surely the muscles in his cheeks were beginning to ache by now?

Tim decided to take the smile as a good sign. As long as the smile was there, he was performing well in whatever test Ra’s had decided to sign him up for. Pleasing this man would be his only hope for freedom. Tim had thought before that escape might be possible, but he truly did not want this man on his tail. The ninjas, maybe. This man? Not at all. 

“How old are you, Alex?” 

Tim knew that telling the truth this time wouldn’t hurt. He looked like a ten-year-old, so there was no point in denying it. He could say nine, instead, but something told him he should be honest with Ra’s this time. “I’m ten.” Tim gestured at Ra’s, and hoped that such a gesture was not considered impolite. His mother had always said not to point at others, but he hadn’t really been pointing. “How old are you, mister?”

“Ra’s.” The man corrected him, but he was still smiling. “I am much older than you. It may be best to leave it at that.”

Tim recognized the “drop it now” hidden behind his words, from years of practice with his parents, and decided to do just that. Somehow, he knew that angering this man would be a very bad idea. His time would be better spent trying to please the man.

“Sorry, Mr. Ra’s.” An apology was usually a good way to please an adult, Tim had discovered after a while. Apologize, and then wait until you are spoken to. Speak no further unless addressed, his father had often advised. Adults preferred to talk to good, polite children. 

“There is no need to apologize.” Ra’s nodded, as if he were agreeing with himself, and then continued. “So, Alex, would you care to explain why a ten-year-old was out and about this late at night? In such a bad neighborhood, I might add.”

Tim wriggled in his seat, feeling as though he were about to receive a rather nasty lecture if he didn’t choose his words carefully. “I saw Batman through my window, Mr. Ra’s. I went outside to see him.” He was partially telling the truth, so perhaps he would get away with it. 

“Where are your parents?”

“Overseas.”

“Why are they overseas?” Ra’s was staring at him rather intently, and Tim found himself answering before he could think about his words. 

“They work overseas.”

“I see. Is there no one to watch you at night?”

“No. The housekeeper comes during the day.”

“And she leaves at night?”

“Yes. She makes dinner, and then leaves.”

“So no one is there to stop you from going outside?”

“Yes. I can go out if I want to.”

“You shouldn’t be going out, but you can?”

“Yes.”

“To watch Bruce Wayne?”

“Yes.” Tim froze, realizing that Ra’s had been talking him into a trap. Ra’s was smiling like a cat who had caught his first canary, and Tim could do nothing to fix his mistake. There was no escape from this trap.

“So, you know Batman’s secret? And Robin’s too?”

Tim sighed, realizing that there was no use hiding it. Apparently, Ra’s already knew Batman’s secret identity. Tim could only get out of this with a little bit of honesty. “Yes. I worked it out.”

“When did you work out their identities?”

“A year ago. I went to the circus when I was little, and I saw Dick Grayson do a special somersault. When I saw Robin on the TV, he did the same thing.”

“So you deduced that Dick Grayson was Robin?”

“Deduced?”

“Figured out.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“And from there?”

“Well… If Dick is Robin, and Dick lives with Mr. Wayne, then wouldn’t Mr. Wayne be Batman?”

“You have fine reasoning skills, Alex.”

“Thank you?” 

“Your welcome. Though Dick Grayson is no longer Robin.”

“Yes. Jason Todd is. Dick is Nightwing now.”

“Very good.” Ra’s had stopped smiling now, and Tim felt a jolt of terror at that. He needed the man to smile. To be pleased with him. “Now then, you are indeed a clever boy. A very clever boy, in fact. So I am wondering, quite frankly, why such a clever boy would be spending his time in such a bad neighborhood.”

“To watch Batman.” 

“Yes, but why? Why do you need to watch Batman?”

“I-I. He’s a hero.”

“So you must watch him? If you stop watching him, he will still be a hero.”

“I know that, but- I want to see it.”

“See what?”

Tim didn’t like these questions. He didn’t know why he had to photograph Batman and Robin, he just had to. “They are… my heroes. I need to see them be heroes.”

“Is this so that you can be sure that they are always on the right path?”

“Yes- No? I need to see them be heroes.”

“Why?” Why was this man pressing the issue so far? Tim just needed to photograph Batman and Robin. That was all there was to it. They were his heroes, and he wanted that on film.

“I never get to see Mother and Father. I don’t have the chance. I need to see them, but I can’t. Batman, I can see. I can watch what he is doing.”

“I see, now.” Ra’s was smiling at him again, which was an unnerving improvement. “Through Dick Grayson, you have formed an attachment to Batman and Robin. You want a father figure, and you’ve found it in Bruce.”

“I have a father.”

“Who is never around.”

“But I have a father. I always listen to my father and mother. I am a good son.”

“A son who wants attention.”

“I do not-”

“You want attention, and following Batman around is your way of seeking it out. Either Bruce notices you, and you gain attention that way, or your parents discover that you are out every night, and you gain attention from their concern.”

“I-” Tim wanted to say that no, that was not right; only, it sounded right. It could be right. Maybe he did want attention. Ra’s may have figured him out, and it only took him approximately an hour. This man was terrifying. 

“It has been a year, Alex, and your plan has yet to come to fruition.” 

“Fruition?”

“It hasn’t worked.”

“Oh. No, no it hasn’t.” Tim was starting to feel depressed. Why did this man have to press him so? Why couldn’t he leave him be?

“Fear not, young Alex. In a way, you have gained what you sought.” Tim gave him a look, and Ra’s chuckled. “Your plan has worked a little.” Ra’s revised his wording, and Tim was grateful. 

“How?” Tim considered the last few nights, and could not think of how his plan had worked. He had not seen his parents in a month, and Batman had not confronted him. No one had noticed him, except for Ra’s. 

Realization struck Tim, and he shook his head. “I am sorry, Mr. Ra’s, but I do not want attention from you.” His answer had been frank and to the point, perhaps even a little rude, but Tim did not want to spend any more time in this man’s presence. Perhaps he needed to be a little rude. 

“No, I suppose you don’t, but you have it. You have my undivided attention, young one.”

“I don’t want it.” Oh dear, Tim did not realize he could be this rude. His mother would be ashamed. 

“Alas, you have it. I’ll even let you in on a little secret?”

Tim couldn’t help himself, he leaned in close, to hear whatever Ra’s was going to say next. “Once I have found something interesting, I never let it go. Never, young Timothy.”

Tim reeled backwards, shock on his face. “My name is Alexander.” 

“No, it is not. Your name is Timothy Drake.” Ra’s was laughing quietly now, and Tim found it to be the most disturbing sound he had ever heard. 

“You knew? This whole time?” 

“Yes. This entire time, I knew who you were. My men have reported seeing you out and about for nearly a year, now. Naturally, they carried out an investigation, and worked out who you were, where you lived, where you go to school…” Ra’s trailed off, and turned to smile at Tim. “I thought it was about time we met. I cannot let just anyone in on Bruce’s secret.”

“You know Mr. Wayne?” Ra’s was either a very good man, then, or a very bad one, if he knew Bruce Wayne’s secret. 

“Yes, of course. We have known each other for many years.”

That did not answer Tim’s question, though. “Mr. Ra’s, _how_ do you know Mr. Wayne?”

Ra’s shook his head, chuckling, and caught Tim’s gaze. “That, Young Detective, is a question best left for another time.”

“For another time? You won’t tell me? Why?”

“I will say this once, so be sure to remember it, Timothy.” Tim shifted uncomfortably as Ra’s expression became serious. “Bruce is neither my ally, nor my nemesis.”

“Nemesis?”

Ra’s nodded. “I suggest you read a dictionary, Young Detective. In time, you will come across some who will not humor your natural curiosity.”

Tim felt that those words held more weight to them than Ra's was letting on. “May I go home, now?”

Ra’s grinned, and shook his head. “Not yet, young one. We have still have matters to discuss.”

“We do?” Tim tried to imagine what else this man could want. What else did he want to know? He already seemed to know enough. 

“Yes. I have a feeling that I cannot persuade you to stop sneaking out of the house each night.”

“You can’t change my mind. I’m going to take pictures of Batman.”

“I thought as much. In that case, I insist that you learn self-defense. You cannot roam the streets without it.”

“Okay. I’ll take karate.”

“I think it may be better if you learn from my men.” 

Tim shook his head. He didn’t trust Ra’s, not at all, and he really did not want to continue their acquaintanceship. “No. I will ask my dad if I can join karate.”

“My men can teach you far better than some petty little school.”

“Yes, but my father will find a teacher I can trust.”

Ra’s chuckled at that. “I see. You are stubborn, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It could be to your advantage, if you train properly.”

“I will. At a school.”

“My, my, so insistent. Very well, I will not force you. I could, but I will not.”

Tim nodded, afraid of what Ra’s may say if he attempted to challenge him any further. He felt that he was already pressing his luck. 

Ra’s stood, and Tim’s heart jumped a beat in fear. He was unsure what was going to happen next. What if he had angered Ra’s? What if he had failed the test? 

Ra’s motioned for Tim to stand, and he complied quickly. They shook hands, briefly, and then Ra’s was beckoning for a ninja to come forward, instructing the man to take Tim home. Upon hearing this, Tim sighed in relief, and eagerly followed the ninja out of the room.

Ra’s men were gentle with him, lifting him carefully, but he did not feel safe until he was set down on his bedroom’s balcony. It was a little unnerving that they knew which room was his, but his bedroom was far safer than the sitting room he had been in thirty minutes prior. At least here, he had the advantage of home turf. He knew his way around better than they did. If they were to attack him, he had a better chance of survival in his own house. 

The ninja left, or at least, Tim hoped that he had, and Tim finally felt comfortable enough to sink to the ground, his energy drained. He was fine, Batman was fine, Ra’s was leaving him alone, for the time being. For now, Tim needed to rest, and pull himself together. 

Tomorrow, he could call his father, and ask if he could join a karate class. If he did not join one soon, he had a feeling that Ra’s would be back, and if that happened, he was not sure he would win the argument that would follow. 

Somehow, Tim managed to make it to his bed, and he fell asleep on top of the sheets, fully clothed. The housekeeper would probably find him like that in the morning, and he would have to come up with an excuse for his laziness, but for now, all Tim wanted to do was sleep.

 

 

Tim had hoped that Ra's would leave him alone, though he knew that it was never that easy. His mother had always said, “life isn't fair, so one must get used to what is given to them.”

What life seemed to have chosen to dish up was a full serving of creeping ninjas, and a bi-monthly visit from the devil himself. 

Ra's was as polite as always, when Tim found himself seated before the man one Friday evening. His drink lay untouched, sitting upon a coaster that Ra's had procured from his pockets. Next to it sat a plate full of cookies, which Tim had refused as kindly as he could. Even if his mother had let him have sweets after dark, he wouldn't have touched them – he still didn't trust Ra's as far as he could throw him, which was not very far at all. 

“I have been informed that your training has progressed.” Ra's murmured around a steaming cup of tea. 

“I-yes. My karate class is... fun.”

“It is inadequate.”

Tim nodded. “Probably, but I don't want your help, Mr. Ra's.” Tim knew that he was being rude, though he had become accustomed to it when around Ra's. He still tried to be as polite as possible, but he had discovered that there were some times where he had to be direct and to the point. Otherwise, Ra's would needle and push until he had his way. 

There were occasions that Ra's got his way, but only when Tim could see the benefit in them. For instance, Tim had taken Ra's advice, and had begun to read the dictionary on a regular basis. His vocabulary was improving, but it was not yet up to standard. Thankfully, Ra's was patient, and took the time to explain whenever Tim was lost. 

“Very well.” Ra's took another sip of his tea, before setting it down. Tim winced, as there was only one coaster, but he said nothing. Ra's smiled, knowing full well that his actions bothered his young guest. “I would prefer that you learn some techniques from my men, but if you insist upon your inadequate training, I will not stop you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ra's.” This discussion was a constant, one that Tim expected every time he saw Ra's.

“Now then, how are your parents? Are they overseas?” 

Tim didn't know why Ra's bothered to ask. Surely he knew the answer already. Tim decided that Ra's was just testing him, to see if he would be honest. “My parents came home a few days ago, but they left again today.”

“I see. And you? Are you well?”

Tim cocked his head to the side, to better study Ra's. The man was a puzzle, one that Tim only had a few of the pieces to. “I am.”

Ra's smirked, and it was clear that he found something in his answer amusing. Tim had discovered quite early on that Ra's was the type of person to read every detail of a conversation, including body language. Occasionally, Tim recalled his fear that Ra's could read minds, and found it unsettling that he could not strike out his fear as an impossibility. 

“No illnesses then? You are of good health?”

Tim sighed. He had indeed been sick a week prior, which of course Ra's would know. He had done everything in his power to get well, though, because his parents might have thought his illness an inconvenience during their stay at home. Ra's did not need to know that particular detail.

“I was sick for a little bit, but I'm fine now, Mr. Ra's.”

“Good good. And what of Bruce Wayne?”

“I don't know.”

“You're sure?”

“Well... Batman was sloppy, today.” Tim had noticed that Batman had spent a great deal of his energies protecting one side of his body. Robin, even, had spent the fight trying to keep the enemy's attention on himself, and away from his partner. “I think he's hurt.”

“Indeed, he is. You were unable to leave the house this week, with your parents home, so you would not know.”

“Not know what?”

“That Batman had a close call, yesterday. He is fine, of course, do not fret. I am impressed, however, that you noticed the injury. The Detective hides it well.”

“He shouldn't fight when he is hurt.” 

“Sometimes, young detective, one cannot afford such luxuries. If Batman were to take a break, even for one night, evil could spread like wildfire. In its current state, Gotham could fall quite easily.”

“So he works, even when he is hurt? For everyone else?”

“That, young one, is called sacrifice. Learn it well. Sometimes, one must take the fall, for the sake of others.”

 

 

“Tell me, young detective, what do you think of our current Robin?”

Tim glanced up from his book, having spent the last hour ignoring the fact that Ra's al Ghul had glided into the Drake household as if he owned the place. It was Tim's twelfth birthday, and he had been peacefully enjoying it in silence before Ra's al Ghul's arrival.

“I think he is reckless.”

“Do you now?” Ra's smiled as a ninja passed him a bottle of wine, and two glasses. He offered one to Tim, who shook his head. No.

“He is reckless, but his heart is in the right place, I think.”

“Indeed, it is. I have spoken with the boy, of course, and I think he is a fine lad, if a little misdirected.”

“He can be very intense and... hostile?” Tim tried the word on the tip of his tongue, and decided that he liked it. His vocabulary had improved exponentially, but he was never able to test it out on anyone except Ra's. Tim secretly reveled in those moments when he could practice with an active audience.

“I quite agree. Hostility is sometimes inevitable, but one can transform it. Here is a lesson for you, my young detective. An enemy can be taken out much more effectively through ploy and plot, and any hostility that you encounter can be silenced and channeled. Use it to fuel your schemes.”

“Mr. Ra's, I do not plan to scheme at all in the future.”

“Incorrect. You will indeed find yourself plotting in the future, be it for your father's company, or for the world.”

“If you say so.”

“Quite. Now, how about some wine? Ah, and how could I forget to mention it- happy birthday, Timothy.”

Tim was taken aback for a moment, but he recovered quickly. It had been quite sometime since he had heard those words in person. “Thank you.” 

Ra's took a small package from one of the ninjas, and handed it to Tim. “This will help you out a little.” 

Tim took the small box, and peered at it suspiciously. “Will it explode?”

“Why would I give you an exploding package when I am sitting right here, young Timothy? I am rather fond of living.”

“When I open it, will it let out some kind of poisonous gas? Do you have a gas mask hidden in your sleeve?”

“No young detective, but if it pleases you, I can open the package myself.”

“No. No, I'll open it.” Tim gave the box one last suspicious look before he carefully began to remove the wrapping. His mother had always been strict about children never making a mess.

Tim pulled away the wrapping to reveal a small leather case. Tim glanced at Ra's nervously, who motioned for him to continue. He opened the case, stared at the contents for a moment, and quickly shut the case again. 

“Mr. Ra's... This? I can't take this.”

“No? It's better than your current one, is it not? I was told that the clarity is astounding.”

Tim opened the case again, and pulled out the camera within. It was indeed better than the disposable camera that Tim had been making due with. The camera was small, but it felt sturdy, as if it would be alright even in hazardous conditions. There were a few extra bits and bobs laying inside the case, and Tim studied each one cautiously. 

“To help you in your studies, since you will not allow me to assist you with your physical training.” Ra's smiled as he took a sip of his wine. “Use it well, young detective.”

Tim allowed himself to smile, just a little bit, as he examined his gift closer. Whether Ra's was a good man or not, he knew just what to say, and just what to present to those close to him.

Tim feared that he and Ra's were becoming closer than he would like.


	2. Origins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about the same length as the previous, and there is quite a bit of focus on Tim’s origin story. I hope you enjoy :)  
> Also, feel free to point out any typos or mistakes. I always miss them...

Tim could see it. The pain, the hurt, the suffering that Bruce Wayne was struggling to overcome. 

Batman was trapped within the recesses of his mind, and an evil copy had taken over his life. It was almost as if Bruce was possessed, by some malevolent spirit that had him beat in every aspect. Bruce was fighting back with all of his might, but he was tired, he had used up all of his resources. He had nothing left. 

This was how Tim saw Bruce Wayne after Jason had died. A violent shell, who fought without mercy, and without a care to his own physical health. He was not Batman. Tim wasn't sure who he was anymore. 

His hero was gone.

 

 

Tim had been shut up within his family penthouse for the entire weekend before Ra's decided to visit. 

Tim glanced up at his intruder and sighed in defeat. “Would you like something to drink, Mr. Ra's?” His mother had been drilling him recently about the importance of being a good host. He was nothing if not a dutiful son, even if the guest was unwelcome. “I'm afraid I don't have access to my father's wine collection, but perhaps you would like some coffee?” 

“Some tea, if you have it.”

Tim nodded, and led Ra's into the kitchen, where he set the kettle to boil. As he was pulling out two mugs, Ra's began to peruse his mother's tea collection. “You have not left the house at all, despite your school being out for the next week.” Tim could hear the underlying question.

“I did not feel like going out.”

“Really, now? You see, I was of a different impression. That you, in fact, love sneaking out of your house, in the dead of night, to observe a rather interesting bat.” Ra's poked his head into the cupboard, perhaps out of curiosity, or perhaps out of boredom. Tim wasn't quite sure what Ra's intended whenever he did anything. “One would think that upon returning home, you would continue your previous observations.”

“That bat is gone, though. A new one has settled in.” 

“A new bat? My intelligence informs me that it is the same bat as always.”

“Not the same.” Tim mumbled. Then, louder, “They are not the same at all. This new Batman? He is violent. He has no regard for his health, nor the health of his targets.” 

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what of your hero? Bruce Wayne is indeed still your hero, yes?” Ra's took the mug that Tim offered to him, and sipped at it before continuing. “Bruce Wayne is what drives you to sneak out at night, no? This is delicious, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Tim sipped at his own tea for a moment, thinking. “Bruce Wayne is my hero. That won't change, but this new Batman? He's not Bruce Wayne. He's some sort of spirit, some sort of demon.”

“A demon?”

“Yes, and he's possessed Mr. Wayne. They struggled for a while, I think, but Bruce Wayne is losing the battle, and there is nothing I can do.”

“So you lock yourself away? You ignore the problem? You give up?” Ra's gave Tim an amused look, as if he knew where this conversation was going to end up. Probably right where he wanted it to.

“What else am I supposed to do? I can't go up to Mr. Wayne and say 'Hi! My name is Tim Drake, and I know you're Batman. I've been following you around for years, and I'd just like to mention that I think you've been going overboard recently. Think you can tone it down a bit?'” 

Ra's laughed, a full chortle that filled Tim with mortification. “Have you been practicing that speech, young detective?” Tim lowered his head slightly, his face filling with heat. “Oh, do not be embarrassed, it was an amusing speech, and there is some merit to it. Tell me, young detective, what do you think is the purpose of a Robin?”

“To aid Batman?”

“Details, young detective. I need details.”

“To give Batman support in the field, and to help him with his investigations.”

“And?”

Tim thought about it for a moment. The moment turned into a few minutes, which turned into many, and finally after an hour of pondering, Tim had an answer. Throughout it all, Ra's had stood in his kitchen, sipping at his tea in silence. Ra's was a very patient man, Tim observed. 

“Robin keeps Batman human.”

Ra's smiled, and motioned for Tim to continue. 

“Without Robin, Batman may forget who he is. He may forget what mercy is, or compassion. Without Robin, Batman may work until he is tired, and beyond that. He will work until his bones give out on him, until his body decides it's time to stop. He will work until he dies. Robin is there to keep Batman alive.”

Ra's nodded, and passed his now empty mug to Tim, who began to wash it. His mother was quite fussy when it came to a clean house. 

“Robin died, this time, though I'm not sure how. I have no idea how that happened.”

“Do you want to know?”

“You have the answer, Mr. Ra's?”

“I do. I know exactly what happened.”

Tim shook his head. “That's not my place. I don't need to know how it happened. What matters is that Robin died, and now Batman is loose without an... an anchor.” Tim was rather proud of his word choice at that moment. “Yes, Robin is an anchor, and Batman is the ship. Without his anchor, Batman will just keep going, he'll keep working, he'll never stop. He'll overstep every boundary he'd ever had, because his anchor was ripped away from him. He didn't lose his anchor, it was taken from him. He's gone on a rampage.”

“Very good, young detective. So, what shall you do about this problem, now that you recognize what is wrong? Will you give up?”

“What can I do? Ask Dick Grayson to become Robin again?” Tim's eye lit up at that. “I could do that. I could ask him. I'd have to reveal what I know, but...” Tim began to think of any other possible solutions, and when none came to him, he decided that he was right. 

“You could, though Richard Grayson does not wish to return to being Robin.”

“He's going to have to. If Batman can't have his anchor back, if it cannot be returned- and it can't- then I'll just have to go and find his old one.”

“What if you were to get a new anchor?” Ra's asked, taking a sip from his wine glass. Tim wasn't even sure when Ra's had procured the glass. He shook his head, and sighed. Those ninjas were sneaky, but he had thought that he was getting better at tracking their movements.

“A new Robin takes time to train. I'm not even sure where I would find one. No, an old one will have to do.”

“It seems that your fire is lit again.” Ra's commented, as he handed his glass to a ninja. “Then I suppose I will be on my way.”

“You will? Oh, yes, then I'll see you out?”

“No need, young one. Though I have some advice for the future.”

Tim sighed. Ra's was certainly filled with wisdom, though Tim was never sure if he wanted to hear it. “Yes?”

“In the future, do not give up until you have worked every angle, every aspect of the problem. A person who yields when things get tough? They do not survive long.”

Tim gulped, and nodded. Ra's was right, after all. There was always a solution, and if he had taken the time to work that out, he could have solved this problem much sooner. 

His hero wasn't gone, he was simply lost.

 

 

Finding Dick Grayson was the first challenge that Tim had to deal with.

The man wasn't at the Teen Titan's Tower, and he wasn't at Kory Anders'. Tim had taken the risk, and marched up to her door, determination in every foot step. Dick wasn't at her apartment, but perhaps she knew where he was?

Of course, she didn't. According to Kory, Dick had left the Titans _weeks_ ago. Upon hearing this, Tim found himself dashing away, ignoring Kory's distressed calls for him to _stop,_ and to say how he knew where she lived. 

Tim knew from his previous detective work that Dick had kept his old apartment. If Dick wasn't living with Kory Anders, then he should be there. That was the logical conclusion.

Tim staked out the apartment until he came to the conclusion that his logical conclusion had failed him. Dick was nowhere to be found. 

Tim was quickly finding out that detective work was never easy. Some puzzles never followed a simple pattern, and it mattered not how desperately Tim needed the answers.

He felt terrible about it, but Tim realized that if he were ever going to find Dick, then he would have to break into the apartment. He had picked up a few things in the past, and some of Ra's al Ghul's ninjas had practiced lock-picking in front of him, knowing full well that he would watch. It took a few tries, but Tim managed to break into Dick's apartment without any fuss. 

Tim tried searching through some of Dick's things, hoping that Dick wrote down where he was going. He prayed that Dick had scribbled down his destination on a shopping list, or even made some small notes. _Anything_ would do, as long as it led Tim to the correct destination. 

It was a stroke of luck when Tim noticed the newspaper sitting upon Dick's desk, detailing the closing of Haly's Circus. Tim knew, simply _knew_ that the circus was where he would find Dick. At least, that's exactly where Tim would be, if he were in Dick's shoes. 

The circus was where Dick had been raised in his early years. It was where his parents had worked. It was a place of joy. 

Or rather, it _had_ been a place of joy. Dick's parents had been murdered before hundreds of people, and that was not something one simply forgot. Tim could only imagine the pain of losing a parent. Even if Tim never saw his own, at least they were alive. 

Tim left for the circus as quickly as he could, and managed to get there in time for the next show. Tim scanned the crowds, searching for Dick. He wasn't anywhere to be found, but of course Dick was a master of disguise. He could be anyone, anywhere. Tim knew that the best thing to do would be to wait and watch. 

Tim cursed when he realized that he was following the advice of Ra's. Advice that he had received four months after meeting the man.

 

 

“You are a persistent young one, I will give you that.”

Tim startled, dropping his camera. There was a loud cracking noise, followed by silence. 

Tim immediately moved to pick up his camera, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He tried to protest, but found the hand suddenly covering his mouth. Ra's shook his head, and lifted his other hand to his own mouth, miming for Tim to be quiet.

Tim nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. 

Tim and Ra's stared at one another, neither moving nor speaking. After what seemed like eons of awkward silence, Ra's finally let go of Tim, and motioned at the fallen object before them. Tim breathed a sigh of relief and retrieved his camera. 

“When tracking their prey, a predator must remain completely still.”

“What?” Ra's was whispering, so Tim found himself copying the man.

“When a lioness hunts a gazelle, she is completely still, completely silent. If she makes a noise, she freezes in place, and waits.”

“For how long?”

“As long as necessary. The predator waits until the prey is entirely unaware of their presence. You must wait until your prey is comfortable, and then you strike.”

“The gazelle can still get away, though.”

“Perhaps, but often times it is too late.”

“Why do I need to know about lion hunting, Mr. Ra's?”

Ra's chuckled, and placed a hand upon Tim's shoulder. Tim shivered, and brushed the hand away, his mind linking “Ra's al Ghul” and “lion.” “We can learn from nature, young one. Yes, this technique is brilliant when hunting down your enemies, but it is also a valuable skill for a detective. Sometimes, the photograph that you have been waiting for? The scrap of news that you have been itching to get your hands upon? They will fall into your lap if you learn to wait, and watch.”

“Oh, alright...” A piece of the puzzle clicked in Tim's head, and he found himself asking, “Then, you had me stop and wait because Batman might have heard my camera dropping?”

Ra's smiled. “Precisely. If you wait, his suspicions will lessen – never go away, of course – but they will lessen.”

Tim nodded, and glanced down at his camera. It was a little beaten up, but it seemed fine. Ra's stared at the camera for a moment, before disappearing into the shadows. Apparently class was over, but the lesson stuck with Tim from then on.

 

 

Tim chose to wait, knowing that Dick would show himself eventually. If Dick wasn't hiding in the crowd, then he had joined the circus for the night. Tim adjusted his binoculars, and continued to observe the performances on stage. 

The mood of the circus was cheerful, and Tim couldn't understand why the place was closing. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and the show was clearly a success – at least, it was until an animal tamer suddenly found himself under attack from one of the large cats. 

Tim tried to stand, like many others in the audience, but then he realized that there was nothing that he could do. He was a young thirteen-year-old, with zero experience dealing with feral animals. All he could do was wait and watch. 

A clown jumped into the air, after it seemed like the large cat was going to tear apart every person in the animal enclosement, and Tim recognized the jump immediately. He had found his hero, though not under the circumstances he would have wanted.

Twice now, Tim had visited Haly's Circus, and both times a death had occurred. If he hadn't known better, Tim would have thought that the deaths were because of his presence. 

After the appropriate authorities showed up, people began to file out of the circus grounds, one by one. Tim couldn't leave, though. He still needed to find Dick, and convince him to return to Gotham. 

Tim found a nice hiding spot, and waited until nearly everyone was gone. After that, he could sneak around and find Dick. After hiding for about an hour, Tim perked up at the hushed tones of some men walking past. One of them mentioned that the cat may have been drugged, and Tim was instantly wary. 

If the cat had been drugged, then that meant a murder had taken place. 

A murder was both an inconvenience and a blessing. Tim didn't have time to solve a murder, but Dick would probably never leave until it was solved. Tim would never forgive himself if he did not help, as well. His mother always told him to get as much done as possible, and this was certainly an opportunity he couldn't miss.

If Tim helped to solve the murder, then perhaps Dick would be more willing to listen to him. It would also give Tim the opportunity to improve his detective skills. Tim felt bad about using another's death to further his goals, but there was nothing else that he could do.

He searched through the garbage, weary of every piece that he touched. His mother was a clean freak, and she had passed that trait on to her son. Still, there was work to be done, and Tim didn't have time to be clean. He managed to convince himself that one day of dirty hands wouldn't hurt. 

It was difficult, but Tim forced himself to look through the garbage containing animal food. What he found was shocking, but he didn't have time to think about it before some men were shouting at him to leave. He was trespassing, and he knew it, but he didn't have time to be caught. He had to find Dick. 

A man tried to stop him, and Tim flipped him in his attempt to get away. The man recovered quickly, and used his momentum against him, flipping Tim onto his back. 

“Okay, kid- I think we should talk.”

Tim sighed in relief. It was Dick Grayson of all people who had found him. 

“Dick, I've been digging up proof...” Tim began, and he could tell that his hero was confused. He tried to explain what was going on, that a clown, Harry, must be responsible for the cat going crazy, but Dick was adamant that there wasn't enough proof. 

Tim pointed out that Harry and the lion trainer had fought before, a tidbit that Tim had overheard. Before he could finish his report, Dick took off, leaving Tim with instructions to stay put. 

Tim's mother always told him to listen to adults and do what they say, but this once, just this once, perhaps he could be a little stubborn. 

Tim followed Dick to a tent, and watched him from the shadows. Dick dressed up as Harry, the one that Tim suspected, and called for two other men to be brought to him. Tim watched in awe as Dick brought about the truth, and proved that the two men were trying to frame Harry, and that they were the ones responsible for the murder. 

Tim helped capture one of the men, and listened to Dick's explanation of the events that took place. Tim was convinced, then and there, that Dick was the one who needed to be by Batman's side. 

Dick was a pro. He knew exactly what to do, and what questions to ask. Tim had thought that he knew the answer, but Dick was the one to solve the mystery. 

Once Dick was finished with his business at the circus, Tim pulled out a manila envelope, and pleaded for Dick to take a look. 

Despite the content, Tim was pleased with the pictures. It had taken him time to gather enough photographic evidence to detail how mad Batman was behaving, but he had done it. He had followed Ra's advice completely. Watch and wait.

If you do that, your prey will fall into your lap. 

Dick was full of questions, who Tim was, how he managed to get the photos, but Tim knew that those questions could be answered at a later date. The content of the photos was the most important detail, and Tim needed Dick to see that. He needed Dick to understand that Bruce was losing his mind. 

Dick glanced at the photographs again. “These pictures. Two-Face is back in town, isn't he?”

“You can tell, just from them? Wow!” Tim knew that he was suffering from a massive case of hero-worship, and he didn't care. Perhaps flattery was the best way to win Dick over. “You're better than I ever thought.”

Tim agreed to explain who he was later, if Dick agreed to return to Gotham, and he sighed in relief when Dick nodded. True, Tim had had to pull out the “you owe him for raising you all those years” card, but he had gotten the result that he wanted. 

 

 

Tim was brimming with excitement by the time he and Dick reached the Wayne Manor. When Dick introduced him to Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne's butler and confidant, Tim could barely contain his glee. He was finally meeting his heroes face to face, the people that he had followed and studied for years.

Alfred appeared puzzled by Tim's presence, and turned to Dick for help. “Sir, just who is this lad?”

“You know as much as I do, Alfred.” Tim stopped gawking at the priceless pieces of art scattered about the room and listened in on the conversation. “I couldn't let a twelve year old kid wander about alone, so I brought him home with me.” 

Tim smiled to himself, before answering, “I'm not twelve- I'm thirteen.” Tim internally sighed at the fact that he had been wandering about on his own for far longer than a day, and Dick had never once acted upon it before. “And I don't want to cause trouble.” Tim felt like that last part was necessary. Dick probably already saw Tim as trouble, but perhaps he could win over the butler. 

Or not, as Alfred immediately began to lecture Tim on the importance of stating his purpose. After that, the butler declared his intention of calling Tim's parents. “You do have parents, don't you?” 

Tim knew that Alfred's intentions were not meanspirited when he asked that question. Neither Dick nor Bruce had parents, so it was the sort of question that needed to be asked. 

“I do, but they're off visiting someplace or another on business. Dad's always traveling and mom goes with him.”

“And you?”

Tim quickly explained how his boarding school was out for the week, hoping that they could get past the introductions and right to business. Batman was out there, in the city, without a Robin once more. Every second that they wasted was a second more that Bruce lost himself to his demons. 

Dick wouldn't listen, though, and Tim realized that in order for Dick to trust him, Tim needed to come completely clean. He warned Dick that the story might hurt him, but Dick was insistent. 

Tim sighed, and sat down, pulling out a photograph as he told his story. The photograph was of Dick and himself, as well as both their parents. The photo had been taken when Tim was little, but he knew he'd never forget what happened that day.

His parents had finally had time for him, and had decided that a day at the circus would make a great family outing. His father, Jack, insisted that Tim would love it, whereas his mother Janet had feared that Tim would be frightened. Tim had been young enough that Janet saw him as a frail thing to be protected. Tim secretly missed those years. 

She was a good mother, but she was also a busy mother. As Tim got older, and could take care of himself better, Janet saw less of a need to worry. Her child was smart, he could fend for himself. 

He was a smart kid, but she saw him as a baby at the time. His father had suggested they take a picture with some of the performers, in order to show Tim that they were people were just like him.

The Grayson's had been kind, and had agreed to the picture instantly. Young Dick had even promised to dedicate his act to Tim. Tim admitted to Dick that he didn't remember the animals, or anything else. Just Dick's act. 

When Tim got to the part of the story where Dick's parent's trapeze rope snapped, and they fell to their deaths, he realized that Dick was near tears. Dick was hiding it well, but Tim had plenty of experience with hiding one's emotions.

Tim stopped his story, to ask if Dick was alright. Dick nodded, and urged for Tim to continue. Tim explained how he had seen the Batman fly down towards Dick, and though Tim had been frightened at first, he quickly realized that Batman was a comforting figure.

Tim paused for a moment, to consider the fact that when he had met Ra's al Ghul, he had been terrified of the man, just as he had Batman. His fears were slowly beginning to diminish, but he knew that the circumstances were different. Tim would be safe if he trusted Batman, but what if he began to trust Ra's?

Would that be a wise decision?

Tim shook his head, and continued his story. From then on out, Tim had a fascination with Batman. When Robin appeared, that fascination extended to Robin as well. 

When Tim admitted that he had discovered Batman and Robin's identities at the age of nine, Dick appeared shocked. Tim hurried to assure Dick and Alfred that they had really covered their tracks well, but the fact was that if one already knew who Batman was, then the rest was easy to work out.

Tim took his time, explaining himself, but he was getting fed up. He needed Dick to understand that Batman needed a Robin, and that Dick was the only person who could fill that role. 

Dick agreed fully that Bruce was in need of help, and Tim could feel a surge of relief rushing through him. 

That was, until Tim discovered that Ra's was right. Dick really, truly did not want the mantle of Robin back. Dick had outgrown that title, and was his own man now. He wasn't a sidekick anymore, and he refused to take on those responsibilities again. 

Tim could understand Dick's point of view, but the whole of Gotham rested in his hands, and Dick just couldn't see that. Gotham didn't need Nightwing. 

It needed Robin.

“I guess it's time to show you something...” Dick went over to a grandfather clock, pushing it aside to reveal a secret passageway. He motioned for Tim to follow him, who did so with butterflies in his stomach. He recognized when someone was offering to show you a grand secret. 

Tim found himself in what Dick called the Batcave, and knew that he was being granted a substantial amount of trust. Though he refused to take up his old costume again, Dick had been a kind host, who had listened to Tim with actual interest. Other than his meetings with Ra's, Tim had not experienced that in a long while. 

Tim promised that when all was said and done he would leave, but he would miss this. Dick would make a great brother, Tim was sure. 

Tim turned around, and noticed that Dick was changed, and ready to leave. As Nightwing. 

“No, not Nightwing. Dick, don't you understand?” Tim feared that Ra's was right, that Dick would never take up the mantle again; but then, who would? “Batman needs Robin!”

Tim hung his head in defeat. “Doesn't anyone understand?”

“Perhaps, young man.” Alfred answered from the shadows, and Tim twirled to face him. “Perhaps Master Dick understands profoundly. Perhaps that is why he brought you here.”

Tim gaped at Alfred, not caring for manners at that moment. Dick didn't seem to have heard them, and Tim chose to shake off the shock. Tim couldn't be Robin. That was never part of the plan.

In desperation, Tim grabbed the Robin costume from the trophy case, offering it to Dick. He hoped that perhaps Dick would humor him, if nothing else. Dick took one look at the costume, and tugged it away, anger clear in his face. 

Tim had gone too far. He had pushed his way into the Wayne household, and had overstepped his bounds. Of course Dick would be livid. Tim had acted without thinking, and now his hero was going to pay for it. 

Tim tried to reason with Dick one last time, but Dick refused to listen, and rode away on his bike, leaving a distraught Tim behind. 

 

 

A legend would die, and Tim had been unable to prevent it. 

Tears fell in ugly drops, but Tim hardly noticed. He hadn't cried in a long time, but now was as good a time as any. He had failed, and that was a burden on his heart that he couldn't contain.

Alfred appeared behind him, and gently led him towards the kitchen for “a nice cuppa.” Every now and then, on their way upstairs, Alfred would make comments about how stubborn Master Wayne and Master Dick were, and how they were far more similar than they would care to admit. 

Some of the comments made Tim smile, and he knew that Alfred was only saying them for his benefit. Alfred was a kind old man, and Tim secretly wished that he would be able to stay longer, in order to get to know the man better. 

It was a pointless wish, of course.

While Tim was enjoying a sandwich, he heard Alfred speak to Dick on the phone. The conversation seemed to indicate that Dick and Bruce didn't get along at all, but Tim couldn't understand that. How could they not get along, when they were so dependent upon one another in the past? 

Tim started to realize that perhaps that was the very reason that Dick put away the mantle of Robin. He and Batman simply didn't get along, and there was no reason for them to work together, if they couldn't stand one another. 

Tim asked Alfred about their relationship, and was chastised for prying into their personal lives. Tim tried to make Alfred understand that he cared for Bruce and Dick, which Alfred seemed to accept reluctantly.

After that, they fell into a heavy silence. Tim sipped on his tea, and munched quietly on his sandwich. He wondered absently whether he should just leave already, as he clearly wasn't welcome, but something in his gut told him to stay. 

Alfred didn't seem to mind the company, at least.

Tim was resting at the kitchen counter, thinking about any new approaches to his problem, as Ra's had taught him to do, when he noticed Alfred rushing towards the entrance of the cave. 

“What's wrong, Alfred?” Tim followed after the man, knowing that it couldn't be good. “Please, tell me.”

“Danger, I fear, lad.” Alfred dashed towards the main computer in the cave, and pulled up an address. “Master Richard had turned on his homing signal.”

Tim was confused. How was that bad news? He pressed further, for details. “What's wrong with that? Now we know where he is.”

Alfred explained that the signal was cut off suddenly, without a command to do so, and Tim's stomach dropped. That could only mean one thing. “There must have been an accident.”

Alfred nodded gravely, but he made no sign of moving. “Alfred, come on, we've got to do something!”

Alfred shook his head. “It is not our place. We will stay here, and wait.”

Tim nodded, and tried to calm his nerves. Surely Batman and Nightwing were alright. They were together, they had each other's backs. Tim sat down, and waited for an hour, keeping his eye trained upon the address before him. Ra's told him to wait and watch, but what should he do if a situation like this occurred? 

Tim was trained in martial arts, albeit just barely, so he could be of some help. What if Batman and Nightwing needed someone to come and get them?

What if they were hurt?

He could defend himself if need be. That would have to do, Tim decided as he turned towards the Robin costume that Dick had deposited on a table. 

He knew that he shouldn't, that it wasn't his place, but what was Tim to do? Leave matters where they were? It was unthinkable.

If no one was willing to take on the role, then Tim would have to do it. It was as Ra's had said in the past. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

 


	3. Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is quite a lot of dialogue in this chapter, so bear with me. I found it amusing that the word count is less than the previous two chapters, and yet there are more pages in this chapter (on word).  
> Please, enjoy :)

Tim was reading in his dorm room, glad that he had some time to himself, but also disappointed that he couldn't sneak out to train with Alfred. Bruce had placed very heavy restrictions upon him, restrictions that made it very difficult to prove himself as a potential partner.

Although he had Dick and Alfred's open approval, Bruce still seemed hellbent on remaining a lone wolf. Bruce had admitted that Tim could be useful, especially after Tim had rescued him from a collapsed building, and helped him to capture Two-Face; however, Bruce still refused to take a personal hand in Tim's training.

He could never replace Jason, after all.

“That must be quite a complex story.”

Tim jumped, and almost threw his book at the intruder. Almost, being the key word. He had never heard his mother utter the words, but he was sure that book throwing was among the list of rude deeds.

Of course, considering who the intruder was, Tim was tempted to be rude anyway.

“Ra's. It's been awhile.”

Ra's cocked his head, studying Tim. “You've dropped the 'mister.' Am I no longer worthy of titles, or are you finally admitting our familiarity?”

Tim glared, remembering a recent conversation with Alfred. “About that. Our _familiarity_.” Tim emphasized the last word, hoping that the venom in his words could be heard. “It needs to come to an end.”

“Ah, so the young, new Robin has learnt of my relationship with the Detective?”

“I'm not Robin.”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever, at this rate.” Tim mumbled.

“Speak clearly, young detective. What would your mother say?”

Tim glanced up, anger brewing in his heart. Anger, and confusion. His mother _did_ say to speak clearly when conversing with an adult. Surely she would be angry if she heard him now?

Tim couldn't say for sure, though, because he wasn't even sure he knew his mother all that well. It had been quite some time since he had last seen her.

“I'm sorry.” Tim hated it, but for now Ra's knew his weaknesses. He was a child, and Ra's was an adult. Nothing would change that.

“You're forgiven.” Ra's smiled, and Tim recognized the smugness in his voice. He knew exactly how to gain power over Tim, and he knew that Tim hated his guts at that very moment.

Tim would have cursed loudly, if his mother would permit it.

“Now, could you kindly repeat yourself?”

Tim frowned, and set his book down. He silently regretted the fact that he had hoped the night would be a little more eventful – this was not the kind of eventful that he wanted.

“I'm not sure I'll ever be Robin, at this rate.”

“And why is that?”

Tim glared at his uninvited guest, before sighing. Tim couldn't deny that conversations with Ra's al Ghul were usually enlightening, and more often than not, Ra's helped Tim to solve his predicaments.

“Bruce Wayne doesn't want a new Robin.”

“Is that so? And why is that?”

Tim sighed again, knowing how this would play out. Ra's would prompt him with questions, Tim would answer, and at some point Tim would have a moment of clarity.

Ra's wasn't about to leave anytime soon, so Tim decided he may as well get as much out of the visit as he could.

“You probably know as well as I do, if not more. You keep tabs on the Waynes, after all.”

“I do. Still, the answer to my question?”

“I'm some kid who forced his way into Mr. Wayne's life. He didn't ask for me to appear, he wasn't ready for that. He isn't ready for a new Robin, he's made that perfectly clear.”

“And how, young detective, is he not ready? Of this, I do not agree.”

“He isn't ready. When he chose Jason, Dick was still alive... I think.”

“You think?”

“No, I'm sure. The dead don't come back to life, Mr. Ra's.”

“Ah, the 'mister' is back. I'm glad to see I have your respect again.”

“Old habits.” Tim explained, with a waive of his hand. Ra's could see the lie behind his words, of course. Tim would always have a small margin of respect for Ra's al Ghul, even with his new found knowledge of the man.

“Yes, of course. And, young detective? To continue your explanation?”

“Oh, yes. Dick was alive when he left Batman alone, unlike Jason. Jason's death is something that Mr. Wayne can't get over. It haunts him.”

Tim thought for a moment, before deciding to continue. “Mr. Ra's? I think- I think Mr. Wayne blames himself for Jason's death. I don't know entirely what happened... I'm not close enough to the family to have been given that privilege, but I just _know_ that Mr. Wayne blames himself.”

“He does, young detective. Bruce Wayne feels completely responsible for Jason Todd's death, because he was unable to save the child in time.”

“In time for what-?” Tim broke away from his train of thought as a new one struck him. “Mr. Ra's, do you mean-? Are you suggesting-? That is to say, Mr. Wayne could have saved Jason's life?” Realization dawned on Tim. “He knew that Jason was in trouble, he even knew where he was, but he didn't get there in time. He was too late to save the day, for the one person that mattered.”

“Indeed.”

“He really isn't ready, then.”

“For a new Robin?”

“That too, but I don't think he's ready to be out and about each night.”  
“Why is that?”

“He wasn't able to do his job, he wasn't able to save his partner, when he should have. It's not his fault, of course, not even Superman can save everyone, but Mr. Wayne thinks it's his fault. That's what matters. He thinks he's at fault, and he dwells upon his failure.”

“And?”

“And by doing this, Batman has lost all control. There's no one out there to stop him, while he tries to save everyone. From here on out, he's going to try... but it's killing him, like I noticed before.”

“Very good. And why is he not ready for a new Robin?”

“He's not ready for it, but Batman _needs_ Robin. Robin is the only one who can calm him down, make him see reality. Alfred is sure to help, but Robin is the one tasked with keeping Batman sane. Robin is his weakness, I guess.”

“And the one who killed Robin?”

“Whether it was on purpose or not, they found his weakness. He needs Robin, so they got rid of Robin. The result was disastrous.”

“Batman has a new Robin, of course.”

“I told you, I'm not Robin. I'm being trained on a trial-basis. I have a hunch that Batman is keeping me around until he can figure out what to do with me.”

Ra's gave Tim a look that clearly stated he wasn't buying it, but Tim wasn't lying. Batman needed a Robin, but he didn't want one. “He doesn't want a Robin, probably because somewhere in his 'must save everyone' state, he fears he can't protect the replacement. He thinks that I'll die too.”

“Then there is a solution to that, yes?”

“What?”

“Become a great Robin. Train until your muscles give out, until your bones break, until you simply cannot train any further. Become the best Robin, one that outmatches any other before you. Become greater than Jason Todd, and make a name for yourself. Batman needs a Robin? Then _become_ Robin. Become the best.”

“That is a terrifying suggestion.”

“A terrifying suggestion that you're already planning to undertake, I presume?”

Tim smiled. “I suppose so.”

“Good. Now then, back to our original argument. Why must our familiarity come to an end?”

Tim stared at Ra's, knowing the man knew the answer to this question, like he did all the others. “I'm not Robin yet, and Batman isn't training me himself...”

Tim trailed off, and glanced at Ra's. He needed Ra's to go away, but he wasn't sure if they really needed this conversation. Ra's knew what he wanted, so why couldn't he just give it to him? “And?” Ra's prompted.

“Batman isn't training me himself, but I have been receiving lessons from Dick Grayson, and Alfred. Oh, Alfred is-”

“Their butler, yes. I know, but you shouldn't give away that little detail. A secret identity is precious, and any little hint could give it away.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry.” Why was he apologizing to Ra's? “Anyway, your name came up when Alfred was explaining to me which villains were which.”

“And so you asked about me, naturally.”

“I was finally going to find out who you were, and what your relationship to Batman was. Of course I asked.”

“You've tried to discern who I am before?” Ra's smiled as he sipped upon a cup of tea. Tim startled, not sure when the man had gotten his hands on the mug. As far as Tim knew, there wasn't even a kettle in the room, let alone a place to cook it on. At this rate, he wouldn't be surprised if the man somehow managed to procure an antique armchair from thin air, the moment Tim's back was turned.

“I have tried to... _discern?_ ”

Ra's waved a hand dismissively. “Discern. Grasp. Recognize.”

Tim blushed, and nodded as way of thanks. His vocabulary had improved significantly since his first meeting with Ra's, but he still had a lot to learn. Occasionally, a word would trip him up. “Yes, I have tried to work out who you are.”

“To no avail.” That smug look was back, and Tim wanted to curse aloud, to throw a pillow at the man. To do _something_.

What he did do was sigh again. It was his default state when Ra's appeared. Sit back, sigh a little (or a lot), and humor his unwelcome guest. “No matter where I looked, I couldn't seem to find you. You're not in the newspapers, on the television, or on any Wayne Enterprise public records. Nothing.” It was infuriating. Tim had dedicated an entire month to the project, and yet he hadn't even heard a whisper about the man. It was as though he didn't exist. “I started to wonder if you were even using your real name.”

“You lied about your name when we first met, remember? My dear, young Timothy, the thought should have occurred to you the moment I introduced myself.”

“It did, but I saw no reason for you to lie about your name. You haven't really lied about anything.” That was another infuriating aspect about the man. No matter how hard Tim tried to dislike the man, there were always little details that caught his attention.

Ra's was polite, unlike many other adults he had met. Ra's treated Tim with respect, which many would forgo when addressing him. Most of all, Ra's never lied. That was something that Tim could not shake. Never had he met an adult yet, who was so unbearably truthful.

Whether Tim wanted to hear it or not, Ra's told him the truth.

“I will lie, on occasion, young detective.”

“I don't think you have, though. Not to me.” Tim considered this for a moment. “Well, you've never lied, but you do keep things from me.”

“There is a great difference between lying, and omitting the truth.” Ra's chuckled at that.

“I have a feeling that you're using honesty as a way to gain my trust.”

“I am.”

Tim sighed. “And when you admit to my accusations so easily, I don't even feel like arguing.”

“That is the plan.”

“Of course it is.” Tim rubbed his temples, feeling far older than thirteen.

“You were saying, young detective? I believe you were trying to dismiss me from your acquaintanceship?”

“Right. Yes. I asked about you, and Alfred told me... well, I don't think he told me everything, that's for sure, but he told me enough.”

“And what, pray tell, did his description of me entail?”

“That you are not, in fact, a man that I should allow inside my dorm room.”

“Harsh, young Timothy. Those are harsh words.”

Tim glanced at his guest, and decided that Ra's didn't appear hurt at all. “I was told that you have, time and time again, attempted to assassinate important members of Gotham society.”

“Not just Gotham, young detective, and I do not make attempts. I succeed.”

“Not when Batman gets in the way, you don't.”

“Rare occasions, though I will admit he can be a thorn in my side.”

“A thorn in your side? You keep a constant eye on him. I don't think he even knows about it, either.”

“Sometimes I allow him to discover my presence. It lowers his suspicion, you see.”

“Maybe. Why do you continue to watch him, if he is just a thorn in your side?”

“The same reason I keep an eye on you, young detective. He has such great potential...” Tim shivered at that, and proceeded to scoot away from Ra's. “Or rather, he did. Lately, I have discovered that he has reached the end of his potential.”

Tim wondered if he should be taking notes. He never imagined that Ra's would start spilling his intentions so easily. “Still,” Ra's continued, “he is a great detective, one that I have great fun playing against. It is entertaining to see who will win during a challenging match of chess.”

Tim situated himself on the far corner of his bed, and refused to go anywhere near Ra's. The man had never scared him as much as he did now. At the same time, however, Tim felt the urge to defy the man, and respond to his words with rude rebuttals.

“Do you play chess, young Timothy?”

“Occasionally.” Tim would sometimes play with his schoolmates, if he had the time. The game was interesting enough, and he liked the challenge. “I guess I can somewhat understand why you keep tabs on Batman, but I still think you and I need to stop meeting. Alfred told me that your overall intentions for the world are good, but that your methods along the way speak of plain evil.”

“Evil? Young detective, my actions are necessary. Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. Did I not teach you that?”

“I would sacrifice myself for the greater good, but I would never sacrifice another.”

Ra's was quiet for a moment, his eyes locked onto Tim's. “So, young one, if a friend of yours was in trouble, you would sacrifice yourself for them?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Really, now?” Ra's nodded, and Tim knew that his response was going to be tested some day. He was regretting his answer, though he had spoken the truth.

“I regret to inform you, young detective, that I will not be ending our friendship.”

“Acquaintanceship.”

Ra's smiled. “ _Friendship._ I have earned that title, I think.”

“You're not my friend.”

“No, but our relationship is closer to that then anything else. Unless you would like to call me your mentor? Your tutor? Teacher?”

“No.”

“Master, perhaps?” Ra's was smiling wider now, and Tim would not have been surprised if the man had the teeth of a shark.

“ _Definitely not_.”

“Oh, well. Our friendship cannot come to an end, young Timothy, because I have a vested interest in you. You have potential, as I have stated before.”

“I don't.”

“Oh, but you do. And, as I said before. Once I find something interesting, I never let it go.”

Tim shivered as the man let himself out through the window. He really should tell Batman about these visits, but he and Ra's both knew that he wouldn't.

 

 

Over the years, Tim had gotten better at recognizing when the ninjas were following him. Perhaps it was because he started to pay closer attention to his surroundings, or perhaps it was because they were _always_ tailing him. Either way, Tim could tell when they were around.

Recently, Tim had been able to detect not only the ninjas, but others as well. At that moment, on his way home from a long week of school, he could tell that someone was following him.

Tim rolled his shoulder, forcing his bag back into place, and glanced at the alleyway next to him. Alfred had offered to pick Tim up from his school once the weekend started, but Bruce still wasn't allowing Tim full access to the manor. He knew that eventually, Bruce would ease up. It was only a matter of time.

In the meantime, Tim preferred to spend his weekends at home, where he could study the information Alfred had fed him. The walk from school was a long one, but Tim had gone on longer treks. The journey was a good chance to stretch his legs, and keep his strength up.

Tim snuck into the alleyway, and waited for his shadow to show himself.

“You should be more weary.” A voice cautioned. “What if I were a villain, intent on your demise?”

“You're not, though.” Tim smiled as Dick landed next to him. Dick rewarded him with a bright smile of his own, before wrapping an arm around Tim's shoulder.

“I'm impressed, actually.” Dick tugged Tim out of the alley and onto the sidewalk.

“Impressed, how? Also, Dick? This isn't the way to my home.” Dick had started dragging Tim in the opposite direction from his family penthouse, and had ignored Tim's efforts to turn them around.

“I know. We're going to my apartment for the weekend, instead!” Dick was grinning as he directed Tim towards a motorcycle parked nearby.

“We are?” That hadn't been the plan, but Tim accepted the helmet passed to him anyway. Dick was good at changing the course of his evening.

“Mm-hm. Anyway, I was saying that I'm impressed that you could detect me. You've been getting good at that, I've noticed.”

“Practice from watching you and Batman all those years.”

“Timmy, the little stalker.” Dick laughed, as he tugged on his own helmet. “Come on, we'd better get on the road now, if we wanna reach Blüdhaven before dark.”

“I thought you were at home in the dark?”

“Yeah, but trust me. You do not want to wander about Blüdhaven after dark. If you think Gotham is bad...” Dick trailed off, before settling upon a burst of laughter. “Sometimes I don't know why I bother, the place is nasty.”

“Well, isn't that exactly why you bother?”

Dick lifted up the visor on his helmet, and stared at Tim for a moment, his face a mask. A grin appeared quickly, though, and Dick nodded enthusiastically. “I guess so. See why I couldn't go back to Bruce? Blüdhaven is my home, now.”

Tim nodded, having accepted his lot in life. Dick would never be Robin again, but sometimes people needed to move on. _Tim_ need to move on.

“I am glad, though, that Bruce has someone new to help him out.”

“If he'll let me.” Tim mumbled.

Dick chuckled. “Don't worry, he'll let you. Bruce is always like that... It's how he shows he cares.”

“That is a really funny way of showing it...”

“That's Bruce for you. You did good, when you helped us out. Bruce was impressed, even if he'll never say that much allowed. The fact that he even agreed with you, though? That he admitted that he needs a new Robin? That right there, was all the proof you need.”

Tim smiled as he hopped onto the bike, behind Dick. It was nice to know that he had allies on his side.

 

 

It took some time, some persistent pestering, and a little bit of luck, but Tim was finally able to convince Bruce to allow him to help with a case or two.

He wasn't allowed to don the Robin costume, and the information he was given access to was limited, but Batman seemed to value the extra input. Tim knew that he was being tested, which encouraged him to do his best.

Alfred was in charge of Tim's training, though Dick showed up every now and then to give him some pointers. Occasionally, even Bruce would pipe up with a comment or two on how to perform a particular kick, or a certain punch. Tim knew that he was making progress, whenever Bruce decided to help.

Alfred was a kind man, but he was strict as well.

“No fair!”

“What, Master Dick, is unfair?” Alfred asked politely, as he passed Tim a cup of hot chocolate.

“Tim's your new favorite.” Dick was sulking on the training mats, his own cup left forgotten on the table.

“What?” Tim glanced at Dick, then Alfred, and back to Dick again. “What?” He felt like it needed to be said again.

“Why on Earth would you think that, Master Dick?” Alfred was a very patient man. His patience reminded Tim of Ra's, yet there was a gentleness to him as well. It was nice to know that patient, polite men could also be warm, welcoming types.

Tim had always associated politeness with hidden motives.

“You scold me all the time, but not Tim. You even made him hot chocolate!”

“Master Dick, I made you a cup as well...”

“Yes, well-”

“In addition to making you both a drink, I brought crumpets. Which you scarfed down, and when finished you wiped the crumbs on your clothing.”

“We have napkins...” Tim whispered.

“Indeed, Master Timothy, we do. We are civilized men, who use napkins. I simply suggested, Master Dick, that you use the napkin I gave you.”

“Ah, well... yeah, you see...”

“Master Timothy is a polite young man, who minds his manners. I did not see the need to suggest that he use his napkin.”

“Behold, the beast within.” Dick whispered, as Alfred walked briskly away, whisking his tray away with him.

“You unleashed it all on your own. I had nothing to do with that.” Tim replied.

“Favorite.”

Tim smiled, as he pushed Dick towards the mats. “I'm not, but that was entertaining.”

“Sure, right. Where were we?”

“Kicks.”

“Ah, okay.” Dick motioned for Tim to get into position, and Tim felt a rush of warmth run over him. His parents may have been overseas, but his home was here, in Gotham.


	4. Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or mistakes. If you catch any, feel free to let me know.

Ra's had suffered great misfortune in his younger years. A type of misfortune that some couldn't even imagine. 

Consequently, that misfortune, and the pain that he endured because of it, had changed him. A seed of melancholy had been planted in his heart. It was a twisted seed, a mutated abomination that fed his ire, and encouraged his ambitions.

The Lazarus Pit was a kind of fertilizer. Many thought that the pit itself had driven him mad, that it had tainted his very soul. A foolish notion, really. If Ra's was indeed mad, he had become that way well before his first taste of immortality.

He did not fancy that he was mad; Ra's had fallen so far into hell, that he had finally seen the light. It had been a long journey, clawing his way towards a sense of clarity, but he had found it. The Lazarus Pit had helped him achieve that goal. 

Without his immortality, Ra's may never have had the time to develop his unique view of the world. Of course, now that he had come to such an understanding, Ra's knew that he could speed up the process. There were some, very few indeed, who had the potential to see the world his way.

With his knowledge, Ra's knew that he could help them find the light. It would take time, of course, and a great attention to detail, but Ra's had all the time in the world. 

He had already handpicked a young seedling, a wee sprout that held so much potential. 

Ra's had never fancied himself a gardener before, but after many previous trials, he knew that this time, he could achieve his goal. 

He would grow the perfect flower. 

 

 

Ra's was the first to hear of the Drakes' kidnapping. He had instructed his men to install the latest surveillance on the plane that the Drakes would be using, and as such had been informed immediately of the plane's change of course.

Timothy's mother and father had made it quite clear that they did not wish to land on Haiti, but the pilot had apparently been terrified when a call on his ear-piece demanded that he land the plane. Ra's did not know who this “Obeah Man” was, but he appeared to instil a great amount of fear in a number of people. 

Ra's considered rescuing Tim's parents, before coming to the conclusion that this was a convenient time to get rid of them.

Timothy Drake had been an innocent child, one who was easily influenced. It had not been hard for Ra's to gain the boy's trust, nor had it been difficult to direct the child's focus and intent.

Of course, young Timothy would deny it, but he trusted Ra's, and he looked to the man for direction in life. When Ra's had gotten his hands on the boy, he had been starved for attention. It had not taken long before Tim began to wistfully glance from alleyway to alleyway, every two months, a desire alight in his eyes. 

At first, Ra's had been unsure if that desire was directed at himself, Batman, or perhaps even the boy's parents; however, he had gained his answer when Ra's sent his men to retrieve Timothy. The boy had feigned indifference, but his eyes told a different story. His eyes told the tale of loneliness, of days spent kept to himself. His eyes told of the delight he took in seeing someone, _anyone_ , pay attention to him, even if that someone was Ra's al Ghul.

The innocence that Timothy was filled with had been useful, but wouldn't be much longer. If Timothy became Gotham's newest Boy Wonder, then his innocence would soon seep away. The Demon Head's precious flower would begin to droop, without proper care. 

For that reason, Ra's needed to strip away _all_ of Timothy's innocence, in one fell swoop. If the boy was to grow up, then it needed to be a quick growth spurt. A growth that Ra's could manipulate. 

After his flower had reached an appropriate height, he would work on the leaves, the roots, the petals themselves. His dear flower would grow thorns, if Ra's succeeded. 

Ra's knew that Tim's parents were in the way. As long as they were alive, Tim would hold onto the hope that his parents would return home one day. He would fervently wish that everything would be alright in the end.

Such a thing must never happen.

Ra's plans would be ruined, if the Drakes were to return home one day. The solution was simple in theory, but difficult to execute. 

If Ra's murdered Timothy's parents, there would always be a chance that Tim would find out. Such an epiphany would surely set Ra's plans back, as the boy would no longer trust him. He would no longer want to be in the same room as him. 

Such hatred could only be satisfying for so long. 

This Obeah Man was, to Ra's surprise, exactly what he needed. If the man succeeded, Timothy would be an orphan, and Ra's would be one step closer to his goal. Ra's wouldn't even need to lift a finger.

His flower would be ready for Ra's to begin his work. He could begin the agonizingly long process of care that would eventually result in perfection.

Ra's had the ability to save Jack and Janet Drake, but he wasn't going to. This was the opportunity Ra's had been waiting for. 

 

 

_“_ _I know how you feel.”_

Tim had asked Bruce what happened to his parents, and for once, Bruce was completely open. Just this once, Bruce told Tim exactly what he needed to hear. It wasn't necessarily what he wanted to hear, but it was what he needed.

After his tall tale was complete, Bruce offered his condolences. At first Tim didn't believe him. He was shocked, angry, and confused, all at once. How could Bruce possibly understand what he was going through? 

Then Tim remembered that Bruce had been through _so much worse_. Bruce had lost both of his parents, and they hadn't been murdered miles away, like Tim's mother had been. Bruce's parents had been murdered right in front of him, without any chance to escape. 

Tim realized that if not for Bruce, his father wouldn't even be alive. Jack Drake's comatose body was lying on a hospital bed, showing no signs of waking up.

He wouldn't even be there, though, without Bruce.

Tim couldn't prevent the tears that rolled down his cheeks, but Bruce remained silent, pulling him into an embrace.

Bruce was a kind man, Tim decided. He just didn't like others to know it. 

 

 

Tim sat beside his father, watching him breath slowly. A sign of life. 

His father was alive, albeit in a coma, but he was _alive._ His mother had not been so lucky. 

Batman had done everything he could to save them, Tim knew that. He would never blame the man. The only person he could blame was locked away permanently, in a prison hospital. 

There was something wrong about that, Tim was sure. He wanted to take hold of this Obeah Man, and shake him, throttle him- Tim was slightly afraid of what else he wanted to do to the man, but he couldn't. The man was paying for his sins, forever doomed to a hospital bed.

A hospital bed that was probably similar to the one that his father was lying in. It was a sort of justice, Tim supposed, but it wasn't enough. 

Tim knew how to be the better man, of course. He would try to overcome this, even if he didn't know how to do so. Bruce and Dick had overcome their demons, and Tim hoped that Jason had as well. There had to be a way for Tim to do the same. 

If trained properly, Tim knew that he could channel his anger into something productive. He could save lives, if he worked hard enough. He could prevent other children from ever having to go through the trauma of losing a parent. 

Tim hadn't seen his mother in a long time, but he did love her. Janet Drake had helped to define who he was. Whenever Tim made a decision, he thought about what his mother would say, what she would do. He hadn't just wanted her attention. Tim had wanted her approval.

Now, such desires were hopeless. He would never see his mother again. He would never gain her approval. 

He may have seen her less and less over the years, but he knew then that he would see her eventually. Now, that hope had been dashed. 

Tim sighed as he pulled out a postcard, one his mother had sent to him shortly before her death. The message, written in his mother's handwriting, was short and to the point. Just another postcard, informing him that they were delaying their return home.

What if they had decided to cut their trip short? What if his mother and father had decided that they missed their son so terribly, that they simply had to get home? His mother would be alive, if that had been the case. 

Tim knew that his parents had been fighting. He could tell from the last time they visited. It had been a terrible thought, but Tim had hoped, deep down that the fighting would escalate so terribly that his mother would come home just to be away from his father. He knew it was terrible, but at least then, his mother would still be alive. She would be around, to console him as he stared on at his father's fragile, comatose state. 

“What will you do now, young one?”

Tim didn't even flinch when Ra's spoke. He hadn't known the man was there, but over time Tim had come to the conclusion that Ra's could show up at any moment, when he least expected it. Tim had decided to go on with his life with the belief that Ra's was always around, no matter where he was. 

Things were simpler that way.

“I don't know what I'll do.”

“Oh? Do you still plan to continue your dalliance with the Detective?”

“Dalliance?”

“A brief involvement.”

“I don't think it's very 'brief,' Mr. Ra's.”

Ra's paused when he heard the honorific added to his name. The “Mr.” demonstrated that Timothy still had respect for the man; however, it also told of the innocence that Timothy still possessed. 

Of course, most of Timothy's innocence appeared to have dwindled in the short time since they had last met. Perhaps there was just enough for Ra's to work with, to manipulate?

Ra's smiled, and sat down in a chair his men had procured for him. “The length of your relationship with the detective depends upon your decision now.” He had the boy's complete attention now. “Will you continue your training? Or will you quit, here and now?”

“Why would I quit?”

“The Detective may fear that you seek revenge. If you don't put in some effort now, you will never become Robin.”

“Never?”

“I am certain of it. The Robin legacy will die with Jason, I assure you, unless you do something about it. Of course, you could take some time off now, and return to Gotham as a different hero.”

“No.”

Ra's chuckled. “Then is the answer not clear?”

Tim grinned. It was a true, blinding smile, and it was perhaps the first time Tim had smiled so openly for him. The last time Ra's could remember Tim smiling for him was on his twelfth birthday, after Ra's had presented the boy with a new camera.

This smile was so much more open than that day. 

“Yes, Mr. Ra's. The answer is indeed clear.”

Ra's felt a pang in his heart. It was a sting that he hadn't felt in many, many years.

 

 

Tim hated to admit it, but he was glad that Ra's had shown up when he did.Now that his parents were... incapacitated... Tim had been in need of encouragement. He knew that he needed to move on, but he hadn't been sure how he was going to accomplish that. 

In addition to his own emotional dilemmas, he hadn't been sure what he would do about Bruce. It wasn't his fault, Tim knew that, but the man seemed distraught that he hadn't been able to save Tim's parents. 

Just like he hadn't been able to save Jason. 

Bruce was the kind of man who blamed himself for the faults of others, and that sort of burden would more than likely stay with him for the rest of his life. Bruce was determined to take on the task of saving every soul he could.

He didn't always show it outwardly, but Bruce was a very kind man. 

It had taken him some time, but Tim had been able to detect the small signs of kindness that Bruce would offer him. They were rare moments indeed, but they filled Tim's heart just the same.

The most obvious one, of course, was his allowing Tim to train with Alfred. This child had barged into his life, during a traumatic time, after he had lost one of his sons, and had insisted on taking on the role of said son. Bruce would have had every right to turn Tim away, but he had been kind, and humored him. 

Tim admired him even more simply for that.

After that, Bruce had pretended to be indifferent, but Tim could see through his act. He cared for Tim, despite his determination to hide it. 

Tim wanted to help this man, who had been so kind to him, but he had been unsure how to go about it. 

Thankfully, Ra's had shown up while Tim had been considering his options. Tim knew that he shouldn't trust the man, but whenever Ra's got involved, life seemed to improve. Every major decision that Tim made, recently, seemed to have a little of Ra's al Ghul's influence. 

When Ra's asked Tim if the answer was clear, Tim couldn't help smiling. The answer hadn't been clear before, but Ra's had solved that predicament. 

Ra's had made it a habit of appearing when Tim needed guidance, and for that, Tim was grateful.

 

 

Alfred straightened the bed sheets one last time, before stepping back to admire his handiwork. Tim had spent the night at the manor before, but never in his _own_ room. This was a special occasion, and Alfred wanted every detail to be perfect. 

The poor boy had lost so much, so very quickly, and Alfred wanted him to feel at home. He expected that Master Bruce would not be very helpful in this endeavor, and so the task was up to him.

Alfred paused in his inspection, to check his watch. He was right on time. Alfred finished scrutinizing every last detail, and swept out of the room. Within moments, he had the Rolls-Royce warmed up, and ready to go.

Just as Alfred was pulling the car up to the city hall, Bruce and Tim stepped outside, a throng of reporters crowding about them. Bruce laid a hand on Timothy's shoulder, and led him through the pushiest of the paparazzi. Timothy was in good hands, as Bruce had past experience dealing with the press. 

When they reached the car, Alfred opened the door for them. As Tim climbed inside, Bruce turned around and quickly answered a few questions before following after his new house guest. 

They weren't sure if Jack Drake would ever wake from his coma, but as long as he lived, Bruce would never adopt Tim. Bruce had used his influence to fool the press, after inventing a convincing enough tale, describing his relationship with the Drakes. Few questioned the story. 

It was easy enough to imagine that the semi-wealthy Drakes were on friendly terms with Bruce Wayne. This also wasn't the first time Bruce Wayne had taken in a poor, unfortunate soul.

Once his passengers were buckled in, Alfred sped away, leaving the nosy reporters far behind. Alfred was certain that more would be waiting outside the Wayne grounds, but for the mean time, Tim had a moment of peace. 

“I trust there were no problems?” Alfred knew that there weren't, but he could have cut the tension in the air with a blunt knife (not that any of his kitchen knives were blunt). Small talk was necessary at this point. 

“None.” Bruce grumbled from his seat. 

Silence fell once more, and Alfred sighed. “Are you tired, Master Timothy? Your room is ready, if you wish to lay down when we reach the manor.”

“No, I'm alright Alfred. Thank you.” At least the boy had manners. Alfred couldn't remember the last time he had heard a child other than Timothy say thank you. 

Of course, Alfred refused to think of other children, as Jason came to the front of his mind. That way lay madness.

Alfred resigned himself to a silent car ride after that. The boy probably still needed time to process everything that had happened to him. Alfred remembered a time when another small soul had sat quietly in the back of the car, thinking of his lost loved ones. 

Again, madness. Alfred shook his head as inconspicuously as possible, so as not to attract attention, and sighed as he focused solely on the road.

When they arrived at the manor, Alfred chose to try again. “Are you hunger, Master Timothy?” A small voice politely declined the offer. “A drink, perhaps?” Another no. “I see.” 

When they approached the entryway of the manor, Alfred turned to his young guest. “I will show you to your room, then? A grand tour will probably help you to find your way in the future.” Tim allowed himself a small, polite nod, and Alfred counted that as a win. 

The tour was short, as the boy appeared to have already explored the manor in his own time previously. Eventually, they reached Timothy's new room. Tim wandered in, stopping next to the bed. 

Although he was thirteen, and no longer a small child, Timothy was short in stature, and leaner than most. Alfred had a feeling that even in the future, the child would not grow to be as wide, or as broad as his mentor. Timothy was dwarfed by the king-sized bed beside him, appearing even tinier than he actually was.

Alfred made a mental note to buy a smaller, cozier bed.

“Master Timothy, if I may be so bold...”

Tim turned to face him, curiosity alight in his eyes. Perhaps the boy wasn't as broken as Alfred feared. 

That would make sense, of course. Only a strong-willed child would be able to confront Batman so openly. Timothy would be alright, Alfred decided. 

That didn't mean he didn't need assistance reaching that point, though.

“Master Bruce is not always best with words, so he may not have told you.” Tim came closer, and Alfred counted that as a win. “This manor is your home. No matter what transpires, whether you continue your work as Robin or not, this manor is yours to explore, to claim, to love. This manor is your home.” 

“And you will be my family?”

Alfred smiled, and bent a little closer to Timothy, so that Master Bruce could not pick up their conversation on the microphones. “Master Bruce does not wish to intrude upon your family. You have a father, and he doesn't wish to replace him; however, to answer your question. Yes, we are family.”

Timothy's eyes lit up, even as tears began to fall. “Thank you.” 

Alfred smiled as his newest young master desperately clung to him.

 

 

Dick hadn't been sure what to make of the news of Janet Drake's death, and Jack Drake's paralyzing coma. 

At first, he was upset, because no one had personally informed him of the disaster until after the fact. He had learned of it from the news, of all places. 

After a while, Dick realized that no one had contacted him because there was nothing that he could do, and there had been no time to do so. Upon that realization, Dick simply felt anger. Anger at the Obeah Man for what he had done, and anger at Bruce for not trying harder to prevent this disaster. 

It was misplaced anger, at least in Bruce's case, but Dick wasn't always great at handling loss. He'd had enough of loss in his lifetime. He didn't need any more. 

After a while, Dick's anger began to mellow out, and he saw how silly it was to blame Bruce. There was no doubt in Dick's mind that Batman had done everything he could to ensure the Drakes' safety.

If anyone had the right to be angry, it was Tim. The poor boy never saw much of his parents before, but at least they were alive then. 

Now, he was alone. 

Dick felt a stab of sorrow echo through his heart, and he knew where he needed to be. Bruce had taken Tim in, according to Alfred and the papers, which meant that was where he would find the boy. 

Timothy didn't need his sympathy, of course. Dick could remember how that had never seemed to make it better. He wanted to be treated like anyone else, every now and then. He had wanted his life to get back to normal.

When he had the chance, Dick took a weekend off of work, and drove to Gotham, intent on seeing his young companion. 

What he found when he reached the manor was a child who acted no differently then before. 

“He doesn't look sad.” Dick commented from the library doorway. Tim was in a complex position on an armchair, his nose in a thick, aged book. 

Alfred motioned for Dick to follow him to the kitchen, where Alfred was preparing some tea. “Master Timothy was sorrowful for many days, and still is, of course.”

“He looks fine. That can't be good.”

“He simply handles grief in a different way.”

“He's ignoring the grief completely. That's not handling it.”

“No, Master Dick. I think he is channeling his grief into productivity. He is studying, at the moment.”

“Studying?” 

“Studying. Master Timothy is quite the scholar. He had been moping about for many days, and I hadn't known quite what to do...” Alfred passed a mug to Dick, before placing another on a tray. “When I mentioned the library, and how it is often unused-”

“That got his interest, huh?”

“Indeed. I believe he is using his grief in a positive light.” Alfred set a plate of bat-shaped cookies on the tray, and began the trek back towards the library. “If only Master Bruce would see this. He fears that Timothy might seek revenge.”

“He won't let him train?”

“Not at all. I've slipped in a few lessons here and there, but Master Bruce is quite adamant that Master Timothy's training be put on hold.”

“Right. That's not gonna stop this kid. He's probably plotting a night out as we speak.”

They returned to the library to find Timothy missing. 

 

 

“Saved you from the Scarecrow, did he?” Dick smirked as Bruce glided into the Batcave. “And without a Robin costume. At least he was honoring one of your decisions.”

“Vicki Vale and I were in danger, but I'm sure I could have gotten us out of there.”

“You're impressed, admit it.”

Bruce turned to stare at Dick for a moment, before a smile spread across his face. “Yes, I was impressed.”

Dick stood there, stunned for a moment by the honest confession, before bellowing, “Timmy! You've got the OK!”

“Dick.” Bruce glared at him, before turning back towards his work. 

Dick turned towards the cave entryway when he heard shuffling from that direction. Tim rounded the corner, taking the cave steps three at a time. 

“I've got the OK for what?”

Dick smiled, before pulling the kid into a one-armed hug. “You'll just have to wait and find out.” 

Tim glanced back and forth between Bruce and Dick, a smile breaking out as realization dawned. 

A new Robin was born. 


End file.
